


Safe and Sound

by FreshBrains



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Hitchhiking, Protectiveness, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like Laurel has never done this before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Hitchhiking" FemTropeBingo square. Takes place after 1.11 "Best Christmas Ever" but no big spoilers for the episode. Happy Femslash February!

It’s not like Laurel has never done this before.

She went through her rebellious phase as a teenager like any girl.  She and her friends used to go out every Halloween night and get rides to parties from strangers, stumble down the sidewalks in their high heels with their thumbs in the air. 

There was less danger, then.  No.  There was less _threat_ of danger for pretty, privileged girls like her.

This time, she’s doing it out of necessity.  Her damn car is still at Wes’ and she just needed to walk until her mind was off Sam, off Connor’s paranoia, off Michaela’s incessant anxiety.  Off Frank and his need to baby her and handle her with kid gloves.  It was nice to walk around the city, rain boots sloshing in the icy puddles, furry coat hood pulled up over her damp hair, but it wasn’t so nice when it was nearing midnight and snowing and she was a mile away from her car.

“Are you kidding me?” A voice came from the street’s shoulder and Laurel startled, instantly dropping her arm to her side.  A tiny part of her thought it was her mother, ready to be disappointed again, but of course it wasn’t her.  It was Bonnie in a sensible silver two-door.  “Do you _want_ to get murdered?”

Laurel inhaled sharply at that word—she’d been hearing it too much lately—and leaned in towards the car so she could hear Bonnie better.  “I want to get home.  If you’re here to mock me, I’ll just keep walking.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes and unlocked the door.  “Get in before I change my mind.”

Laurel did as she was told.  She sighed in relief when the warmth of the heater seeped through her coat and she rubbed her palms together in front of the vent.  “My car is at Wes’ place.”

Bonnie didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes on the road, her hands at ten and two on the wheel.  Even after hours, _way_ after hours, she was impeccable—no lipstick smudges, not a hair out of place.  “Are the rest of them there?”

Laurel licked her lips and nodded, not wanting to reveal anything else.  They made a promise to Annalise—keep Bonnie out of it.  “We were studying.  Connor pissed me off.”

Bonnie snorted out a laugh through her nose.  “Studying.  You’re sure a bunch of studious young people, aren’t you?” Sarcasm dripped through the car, biting enough for Laurel to flinch, but she didn’t respond.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, but Laurel wasn’t uncomfortable.  Severe as she was, Bonnie didn’t make demands of her—she kept the radio on low, the heat on high.  She drove steadily but not slowly.  Laurel wondered if she would ever stop for any other hitchhikers, non-random ones who she didn’t work with (or babysit), and decided she probably wouldn’t.

Bonnie pulled onto the curb in front of Wes’ apartment.  “Is your car around back?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, and gathered up her bag.  “Thanks for the ride.”

“Wait,” Bonnie said, voice low, and her hand reached out to circle Laurel’s wrist.  Laurel was surprised at how gentle it was, how warm her fingers were—she always imagined Bonnie with ice in her veins.  “Look at me.”

Laurel frowned, but settled back into the seat and looked at Bonnie. 

“Listen closely.  Don’t pull a stunt like that again.  Don’t hitchhike, _ever_ , especially at night.  You’re not going to become some footnote in a hit-and-run case that lands on my damn desk, or _worse._  Understood?”

Laurel swallowed hard, eyes wide.  She’d heard it before, or things like it, from mothers and older female friends, but it never sounded like it did coming from Bonnie.  Bonnie didn’t sound like a mother, she sounded like a _girlfriend_ , a worried girlfriend who needed Laurel to get home safe.  Laurel nodded.  “It won’t happen again.  I promise.”

Bonnie nodded back, a firm jerk of her head, and cleared her throat.  “Okay.  See you in the office tomorrow.”  She waited until Laurel found her keys in her bag and was walking down the apartment sidewalk before pulling back into the street and driving into the lightly-falling snow.

As Laurel got into her own cold car and turned on the heat full blast, all she could think of was Bonnie’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, warm and full of words unsaid.


End file.
